


Six Months On Vulcan

by mondschein1



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-04
Updated: 2005-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:36:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11125368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondschein1/pseuds/mondschein1
Summary: However, Fraser cannot believe he could ever have predicted that -- for reasons which most certainly don't need exploring at this juncture -- he would ever find himself in the antechamber of a launching spaceship, somehow wedged between a certain spiky-haired Chicago detective and a hard place, and contemplating the very real risk of suffocating.





	Six Months On Vulcan

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Six Months On Vulcan

## Six Months On Vulcan

  
by Giulietta  


Disclaimer: Alliance Atlantis owns due SOUTH; Gene Roddenberry thought up Star Trek (any implications I may make that he's a fraud are obviously false), and Douglas Adams wrote Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I just squished them all together, and I don't get paid for that.

Author's Notes: Written for the ds_flashfiction Fuck or Die challenge. 

Story Notes: This is mostly crack, and the slashiness is just a bit at the end. Star Trek/dS crossover, with smidges of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Familiarity with the other fandoms not a prerequisite. 

* * *

It is quite true that Fraser hadn't made any special effort to foresee the various dangers of becoming a Mountie -- he'd more or less considered it something he was going to do, and any pondering on the subject of possible near-death situations would have merely been a futile attempt to prepare properly for the infinite and inevitable. And yes, he may have tried -- having been less jaded and eager to prove himself, he almost certainly _had_ foreseen the commonplace risks of frostbite and bullet wounds.   
  
However, Fraser cannot believe he could ever have predicted that -- for reasons which most certainly don't need exploring at this juncture -- he would ever find himself in the antechamber of a launching spaceship, somehow wedged between a certain spiky-haired Chicago detective and a hard place, and contemplating the very real risk of suffocating.  
  
"Well, shit," Ray comments, quite succinctly.   
  
"Quite," Fraser agrees, and tries to wriggle a bit. Wriggling, it turns out, is a singularly unproductive course of action, as there is simply no room to wriggle in. And for once, he's glad Dief wandered off in hot pursuit of a jelly doughnut -- there is quite certainly no room for him, either.   
  
"I shoulda _known_ ," Ray moans. "He was wearing a _wool cap_ in _July_. I -- Fraser, you're poking my whatsit. Stoppit."  
  
"Oh." So _that's_ what that is. "Oh dear. My sincere apologies -- "  
  
"Yeah, yeah, shut up and get your elbow outta there."  
  
Fraser attempts to do so, with little success, and Ray stiffens abruptly. "...is that a little better?"  
  
"No. No, that is _not_ better. Go back to wherever you were before."  
  
"I -- I don't believe I can."  
  
Ray whimpers expressively, and sags a little. This has the probably unintended effect of compressing Fraser's lungs and cutting off his air supply by more than fifty percent. "Great. Just great. If I'd just _processed_ that fucking stupid _hat_ \-- " Fraser chokes out something incoherent, and Ray obliges promptly without interrupting himself. " -- we wouldn't be here now. I'm just sayin', you hear me?"  
  
"I hear you," Fraser replies, coughing.  
  
"And it's not like I'm racist or nothin', but I shoulda known that if I met up with somebody who's actually _green_ \-- "  
  
" -- then you should have assumed that he was one of the little green men from the planet Mars."  
  
Ray's probably smiling wryly, though Fraser can't actually see anything but the black back of his jacket. "Yeah. Martians. Or somethin'. You _sure_ you can't move your elbow outta there?"  
  
Fraser opens his mouth to answer, but just then the wall that's been mashing his nose into his cheekbone suddenly vanishes; he seems to hang suspended, in shock, for a nanosecond before falling sideways and knocking his head against the floor. Barely a second passes before Ray also topples onto the floor next to him; they both inhale fully for the first time in twenty minutes -- and then they catch their first glimpse of the alien.  
  
He is humanoid, which at least gives them some excuse to not have noticed him before -- but his skin is tinged faintly green; Fraser suspects that this species' hemoglobin may be based on copper instead of iron. His eyebrows are turned up into a frown, and the pinnae of his ears come, disturbingly, to a point, which Fraser supposes explains the wool cap. He does not care to think what might have happened if those ears had been observed near one of Chicago's churches.   
  
Other than that, actually, he seems quite normal -- normal enough, anyway, which is why Fraser is somewhat confused when Ray gasps, "Ohmigod," and leaps to his feet, obviously more shocked and agitated than Fraser thinks the situation warrants.  
  
"You -- " Ray stammers, pointing at the alien, who is backing away rapidly, "You're a -- "  
  
Before Ray can finish his sentence, the alien presses his palm to the wall, steps through the door that suddenly appears there, and slides the hidden panel shut. "Dammit!" Ray shouts, and flings himself towards the door to try and pry it open. It is, Fraser thinks, a useless attempt -- certainly there must be a lock on the door, of a better quality than anything produced on Earth. "Ray -- "  
  
"Shaddup, Fraser," Ray mutters, slapping his palm against the wall repeatedly.   
  
Fraser sighs. It is apparently also useless to try and take away this particular bone. He watches Ray with as much patience as he can muster, trying not to snicker when Ray produces a credit card from his jeans and attempts to find someplace to insert it.   
  
After about ten minutes, Ray has wisely abandoned these attempts as futile, and turned back to Fraser excitedly. "Fraser, that guy -- !"  
  
"The Martian?" Fraser inquires mildly.  
  
"No -- what Martian? Fraser, didn't you ever see _Star Trek_?"  
  
"Er," Fraser says, cautiously -- but not quite cautiously enough.  
  
"You _freak_!" Ray explodes. "Come on -- _never_? Not a _one_? You gotta be kidding me."  
  
"I'm afraid not," Fraser says, rather wishing he had, as it seems Ray's about to educate him in a probably rushed and inaccurate manner. "What -- "  
  
"It's a TV show, okay? It's a sci-fi TV show. About -- like -- space, and stuff. And spaceships." Ray stops and narrows his eyes at Fraser. "You never heard of the _Enterprise_?"  
  
"Ah -- no." Fraser still fails to see what implications a television show can have on their present predicament, but listening to Ray appears to be his only option at present.   
  
"Captain Kirk?"  
  
"No."  
  
Ray ponders this for a moment. " _Admiral_ Kirk?"   
  
"No."  
  
"Spock? You gotta know Spock," Ray says, and Fraser finds that in fact, he does.  
  
"Dr. Spock?" he ventures tentatively.   
  
Ray slaps a hand to his face and groans. "No, _Mr._ Spock, Dr. _McCoy_ \-- okay. Look -- that guy in there, he's a Vulcan. From the planet _Vulcan_ , not Mars, okay?"  
  
"All right," Fraser says, frowning, "he's a Vulcan from Vulcan."  
  
"And see, Vulcans've got this thing with logic, or somethin' -- they're all level-headed and -- _Canadian_ , that's it. They're all Canadian and Mountie-like all the time, see?"  
  
Fraser is unsure whether or not Ray means this as a compliment or an insult, and ultimately decides that it must be neither. "I see. But Ray -- "  
  
Ray keeps talking. "Except they get really, really horny every seven years -- some shit called pon farr."  
  
Fraser starts to say something, processes what Ray's just said, and blinks at him. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
" _Really_ horny," Ray clarifies helpfully. "So horny that they're gonna _die_ if they don't get some, you hear what I'm sayin'?"  
  
"I -- yes," Fraser says, somewhat lost still, "but how -- ?"  
  
"I'm _gettin'_ there -- so okay, they get in kinda a bad mood, okay? Like, think how you'd feel if _you_ didn't get any for seven years." Fraser gives Ray a level look. "Uh. Right. You -- sorry I asked." Ray coughs uncomfortably. "Okay, so they start hittin' things 'n' throwing things, 'nstuff. You get it now?"  
  
Fraser is about to employ the just use of sarcasm -- when suddenly, he _does_ get it. "I...think so," he says slowly. "You mean to say that he wanted a bodyguard not for _himself_ \-- "  
  
" -- but for all the happy kiddies in Chicago. Yeah. Considerate of him, ain't it?" Ray adds, obviously meaning, "Clever of me, ain't it?"  
  
"Quite," Fraser answers to both questions, and then adds, "Although, Ray -- "  
  
"What?"  
  
"Vulcans _are_ fictional characters."  
  
Ray huffs an irritated breath out his nose. "Jesus, Fraser, why don't you just pack up for Mount Seleya?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Never mind."  
  


* * *

_Day One_ :

"Dammit," Ray mutters, so that only Fraser can hear.

Fraser looks at the woman in front of him, making polite movements with his head. She appears to be the tribal elder, and also appears to be highly distressed by their arrival. Fraser holds his hands out to show her that he is unarmed, and leans toward Ray. "In this _Star Trek_ \-- did the humans converse with the Vulcans?"

"Yeah," Ray mutters back, "'cept they musta had translators, or somethin'. Were they the ones with the fish in their ears?"

"In their _ears_?" The heat has surely gone to Ray's head.

"Yeah. Uh -- no. No. Never mind. _Dammit_ ," Ray hisses, which does little to convince Fraser that his brain is still functioning properly.

_Day Two_ :

"Well," Fraser says brightly, "this is a rather nice room." It's better than being outside, at least. There is, apparently, some sort of climate control installed here.

"Yeah, sure," Ray says, less enthusiastically.

"How long do you suppose they'll keep us here?"

"Dunno. 'Til that guy don't feel like fucking anymore, I guess -- he's probably the only one who knows how to speak English. And if _he_ don't -- well, we're screwed." Ray flops onto the oddly shaped mattress and lolls -- it's clear that he's already less than optimistic about their chances of getting home.

"We might," Fraser points out, "endeavour to learn _their_ language." He points at a set of shelves -- they are stacked with electronic chips, and a device which looks like it might read the chips is propped in top of them.

Ray groans uncooperatively, and rolls over.

_Day Three_ :

"Ray," Fraser says, "look at this building." He has the reader propped on his crossed legs, and is angling its screen in the direction of Ray's face.

Ray doesn't care. He has attained a state if indifference to which all teenagers aspire. He'd really, really like it if Fraser could stop being a Mountie for a day and just look at the bleak facts -- but he looks, 'cause Fraser being insistent is something only an idiot'd inflict on himself. "Yeah?"

"Its architecture looks somewhat familiar, I think -- similar to the ancient Greek temples, perhaps. I was wondering if you knew -- "

Ray blinks at the screen. "Uh, Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"That's where they fuck."

"Ah," Fraser says, and fails to go red. "How very appropriate."

Whatever Ray'd been expecting, it hadn't been _that_. " _Appropriate_?" he chokes. "What -- "

Fraser points at the screen -- and yeah, sure, he's got a point, but -- "Jesus. I'm never, ever buying your innocent act _again_. _Ever_."

_Day Four_ :

"There is," Fraser says calmly, "something altogether strange going on here."

"Ya _think_?" Ray shoots back, not losing a second. "Humans're meeting all the Vulcans, and Stella didn't come with. _That's_ strange, see. She's gonna kill me in a jealous rage, if we ever get back."

"That too," Fraser concedes, "but...did the crew of the Enterprise ever go back in time?"

"Yeah," Ray answers, "loadsa times. Can't have sci-fi without it. Why?"

"These newer structures -- don't they look somewhat familiar? This, for instance -- "

"Hey," Ray says, "that looks like Yankee Stadium. Funny."

"And this -- "

"That's the Sears Tower -- Fraser, are you -- ?"

"Yes," Fraser says, beaming at Ray proudly.

" _Shit_ ," Ray breathes, "that's weird."

"I did warn you."

"You're tellin' me -- "

" _Yes_."

" -- that they went and visited Gene Roddenberry -- "

"If he's who I think he is, yes."

" -- and went _forward_ in time -- and he wrote a _story_ about it? He got to see aliens from the future and he made a _show_ about it? Wouldn't that be -- like -- breaking that promise they always make the people from the past make?"

"Well," Fraser explains patiently, "he never told us that any of it was _true_."

Ray contemplates this. " _Shit_ ," he says again, for lack of anything better to say.

"Quite," Fraser agrees.

_Day Five_ :

"Hey, look," Ray says, having finally succumbed to the lure of information, "look at this. This's that guy from the ship!"

Fraser looks. "It's exactly the same nose," he comments shortly.

Ray squints at Fraser suspiciously, but says nothing. "He's been assigned to observe the Human race for the last...ten years, I _think_ that's the conversion -- "

"Something near it," Fraser agrees. "Soran, no surname."

"What'd he say his name was, before? Mr. Surak Soran, or something. _Knew_ there was somethin' funky happening when I heard that, but -- "

"Oh, certainly," Fraser agrees, "of _course_ you did," and Ray shoves him off the mattress.

_Day Six_

"I apologize for the wait," somebody at the door says with an unfamiliar accent, "but then, it seems to me that you Humans must be accustomed to delays in transportation."

Ray looks up sleepily, mutters something about how people ought to be able to get a decent night's sleep out of the Bill of Rights, then blinks and leaps out of bed quite readily. "Fraser! Fraser, wake up, he's done with his -- uh." He looks over at Soran somewhat apologetically, but not very much so, and runs over to Fraser to shake him awake.

Fraser wakes up almost immediately, bypassing the stage of incoherence and crisply reciting, "Good morning, may I help you?" without so much as a yawn. Ray ignores this freakishness and, having assured himself that Fraser is awake, turns back to the Vulcan. "So, Soran. What's happenin'?"

"We're going to send you home," Soran says. "Of course, I would have done so the moment I realized you'd been mistakenly brought on board, but I was preoccupied with..." He makes a small, abstract gesture with his left hand, and his cheekbones flush green.

Ray snorts dismissively. "Yeah, we know. So, uh -- now? Right now?"

"Yes," Soran replies, "if you'd like."

"Whaddaya mean, if I _like_? Whaddaya _think_ I -- "

"Not you," Soran interrupts hurriedly, "him." He points at Fraser, who is tugging at his uniform distractedly, but looks up when he realizes that he is being looked at.

"Ah. Me?" Fraser says, quickly replaying the last few words spoken.

"Yes," Soran says. "T'Pau has been observing you carefully -- "

"What the _fuck_? Are we specif -- _specimens_ now?" Ray interjects belligerently, but Fraser merely stays silent and makes an inquisitive motion with his ears.

Soran turns to Fraser and speaks to him directly, ignoring Ray's occasional outbursts. "It is T'Pau's firm conviction that your place is here, as a disciple on Mount Seleya."

"Mount -- no," Ray blurts, "no, he doesn't want to go there. He _doesn't_. Fraser -- "

"I'm afraid I'm not as familiar with your culture as my partner is," Fraser says, apparently ignoring Ray's advice. "If you would elaborate -- "

"It is a place," Soran explains, "which is meant to hone the Vulcan mind to its most logical state. The disciples of Mount Seleya follow _cthia_ to such an extent that it takes from them any form of that madness you Humans call emotion."

Fraser swallows. "I don't think -- "

"You have," Soran interrupts, "a bullet wound in your back." Fraser flinches; Soran observes this coolly, and moves on. "They could train you to be able to forget the circumstances which caused it."

Ray has gone very still and quiet, for once; he stares at Fraser expectantly, waiting for him to decide. Soran also watches, though with slightly less tension, being Vulcan.

"I'm sorry," Fraser says, "but forgetting would be unconscionable."

"HA!" Ray shouts gleefully, leaping up and punching a triumphant fist in the air. "Take _that_! No Mounties on Mount Seleya for _you_ , you -- "

"Pardon him," Fraser tells Soran quietly, "he's a little unbalanced. When will we be able to go home?"

"Now."

"Now? How?"

"Transporter beam. It is the most efficient means of traveling off planet -- and may I say that you may wish to save yourself T'Pau's disappointment."

"Understood," Fraser agrees quickly, "If you would -- "

" -- Canadians're still Earthlings!" Ray's still prancing about in a somewhat ludicrous fashion. "Or something. Humans, at least. Can't make Vulcans out of Mounties, no siree -- "

"Ray?" Fraser says.

"Yeah, Frase?"

"Shut up?"

Ray beams at him happily. "Whatever you say, buddy," he says, and they follow Soran to his ship's transporter room.

* * *

Ray wakes up feeling unpleasantly drunk, so he groans. He feels like some idiot's come along an' rearranged all his brain cells, which really, they coulda done without. Probably all this shit -- about there actually being someplace called Vulcan, with lotsa pointy-eared people on it -- had been just some sorta drunk hallucination.

Ray opens his eyes to find Soran looking at him worriedly. "Gah!" Ray shouts, and sits up.

Next to him, Fraser's knuckling at his eyes -- geez, looks like you gotta take apart his particles and put them all back together to make him look like he's been asleep. "I -- where are we?" Fraser asks hoarsely.

"Earth. America. Illinois. Chicago," Soran says.

Ray sighs. " _Where_ in Chicago?" he demands. "Chicago's a big place."

"We're in back of the Canadian Consulate, if we've aimed correctly -- have we?"

Fraser looks around blearily. "Ah -- yes. Yes, we're fine, thank you kindly."

"Very well. Farewell, Humans, until our races meet again." And just like that, the Vulcan's gone -- none of that flashy blue stuff like there was in the show. Maybe there's a little bit of orange-y stuff in the air, but not anything he'd _swear_ on, or nothin'. Well, it'd been a _show_ , for Chrissakes -- Gene Roddenberry couldn'ta figured out _everything_ about Vulcans from one encounter, or even two.

Fraser's hand is in Ray's face; after a beat Ray figures out that Fraser's probably trying to help him up, so he takes it. "So were we dreamin'?" he asks Fraser, trying to grin and wincing instead.

Fraser thinks about it, then shakes his head. "I don't believe so. I think -- no. I don't _think_ , I just -- "

"You got a hunch that it was real."

"Yes."

Ray scrubs at his face with one hand, trying to make the ground stop spinning around like that -- and then he suddenly has this totally wicked idea. _Really_ wicked. Almost too wicked to actually _do_ , except -- well, it's too wicked _not_ to. "Uh -- okay, so, thing is this," he says, carefully looking at his feet -- step, step, step. "You know that pon farr thing?"

"Yes," Fraser says slowly -- dammit, he thinks somethin's up _already_? Whatever. Just keep talking, Kowalski.

"I think it might -- sorta -- maybe be, uh, you know."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Uh. _You_ know. Contagion, con -- "

"Contagious?"

"Yeah, that." Ray looks up to see what Fraser thinks about that. Funny thing is, Fraser's _eyebrows're_ sayin' -- real polite and all -- "Ray, my friend, you are so full of shit." Except Ray's _ears_ , see -- something's gotta be wrong with them, or something, 'cause --

\-- 'cause he's pretty sure Fraser just _said_ , "Oh, dear. Well, I suppose we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"

\-- _fin_

  
 

* * *

End Six Months On Vulcan by Giulietta 

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